The Struggles of a Halfblood Scholarship Student
by aoi588
Summary: Harriet Potter earns the right to attend Hogwarts under a prestigious scholarship, dodging the purebloods-only rule. But that's not the only obstacle she faces, and she and her cousin Archie will need all of their savvy to escape the walls of Hogwarts unscathed. AU of murkybluematter's AU.
1. Prologue

It all began with a letter.

Or that's how Archie liked to tell it at least, that the whole thing started that hot, muggy day in June, when an owl came winging Harry's bedroom window with a crisp envelope clutched in its beak. Addy argued it had started long before that, when Harry's passion for Potions first ignited, and Archie couldn't help but retort that they might as well say it had begun long before any of them were even born, when Severus Snape first gained his Mastery and was published in numerous academic journals. During all of this Harry would sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. Did it really matter where or when the greatest adventure of her life unfolded? And when she said this inevitably Archie and Addy would gasp in offense, their penchant for drama demanding they make the story appropriately story-ish (Not a word, Hermione would murmur, curled up in a nearby armchair, and Sirius would roll his eyes, albeit fondly). Of course it mattered!

But all of that is far, far into the future.

Now, our dear heroine is about to open a letter announcing the results of her application for a scholarship to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Let the tale begin.

…

Harry Potter stared at the envelope lying on the table in front of her. _This is it_ , she thought grimly.

The Hogwarts seal stared back at her, unaware of the turmoil its contents would wreak upon both the recipient and her family.

But why would it be aware, in any case? It was just wax, meant to do what it was meant to do. It wasn't interested in Lily's thin lips, pulled tight with exhaustion and disapproval. It cared not for Sirius' restless temperament after he and Archie had bellowing matches in the halls of Grimmauld. James' desperation, the worry lurking in Remus' dark eyes, it all meant nothing.

(Then again, some part of her mind whispered. Didn't it mean nothing to Harry too? Wasn't she _selfish_ , to pursue this opportunity despite the way it had fractured the previously happy family dynamic the Potters, Blacks, and one Lupin used to enjoy?)

Harry gritted her teeth, resentment towards the seal reaching new heights. Reaching for the letter, she ripped it open (perhaps with a little more force than was required) and pulled out the thick pieces of parchment inside, dropping both the envelope and the seal scornfully on the ground.

Perhaps it was a little petty, but Harry thought she had earned the right to a little pettiness. Especially considering she had grown up with Sirius Black, the King of Petty, as an uncle. She still remembered the epic prank war he had declared when James drank his last bottle of 1848 original Ogden's Firewhiskey. It had taken Aunty Di three whole days to— _but we don't talk about Aunty Di_.

Swallowing hard, Harry unfolded the letter with shaking fingers and scanned over the stark cursive that greeted her.

 _Dear Miss Potter,_

 _We are delighted to inform you of your enrollment in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—_

Harry's breath caught in her throat. _Your enrollment_ rattled around her skull, echoing in her eardrums and leaving a funny taste on her tongue.

She was in.

 _She. Was. In._

Harry felt both a wicked sense of elation and a sick sort of dread. She was accepted to the school of her dreams, to where Severus Snape _taught_.

But she couldn't quite be happy, not yet, not when her parents were fighting for hours on end, not when Archie and Sirius were having one of the worst conflicts to grace their ridiculously close father-son relationship. Raised voices and slamming doors filled the halls, these days, and Harry knew her acceptance meant there was a choice to be made.

And she refused to put it off, not after all she and Archie had been through together.

Clutching the monumental parchment in her hand, she made her way to the library, where her cousin sat fuming in one of its many nooks and crannies.

After a slight moment's hesitation, she slid in beside him and tucked her knees up to her chest. "Hey."

Archie's anger seemed to evaporate and he sagged against her, looking drained. "Hey, cuz."

"Bad one?" she asked, fixing her eyes on the wall opposite them.

"Worst one yet."

A heavy pause, and Archie sighed. "The letter come?"

"Yeah."

"Uncle James will go berserk," Archie said lightly, and Harry rolled her eyes.

"You don't even know if I got in yet."

"You got in," he said confidently. "You're _Harry_."

Warmth spread inside Harry's chest, and against her will a smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, Arch."

"Always," he replied, some of the trademark Archie charm returning to his voice, and Harry suddenly felt an ache for her cousin, bright, sweet, earnest Archie, who knew how cruel the world could be and still saw the stars shining bright.

"Do you think Uncle Sirius will change his mind?" Harry asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Archie shuddered against her. "No."

"I could reject it." She let the words hang in the air before continuing on tentatively. "Do what we talked about, say I want to go to AIM and take your place and you take mine."

Archie was silent beside her, and Harry gained traction. "People might think it's a bit odd, me not taking the scholarship, but I'm pretty sure Dad's mood lately would explain it at least partially. And whoever's next in line will take my place, and eventually people will forget all about the Potter Heiress."

"Wrong," Archie whispered.

"Hm?"

"People wouldn't forget. They were already outraged enough, and sure, you being Heiress Potter helps, but there will still be offense that a halfblood dare turn down this _delightful_ act of charity."

Harry grimaced. Archie was right, and she knew it.

For Archie, though… "I wouldn't mind," she said, simply, but with a quiet surety that spoke of truth. She had never cared about society's opinions, and she wasn't about to start now.

Archie scowled, "I would. Harry, look at it this way: Either we both go to Hogwarts, _legally_ , or you commit blood identity theft and we have to lie to everyone for years and years. I'm not having that on my head. Our faces are too beautiful. I refuse to let a Dementor suck on them."

 _It would be me getting 'sucked on'_ , Harry thought dryly, but she let it go. "So what's next?"

Archie took a deep breath, and Harry could see him gathering himself together, patching the fragile bits over with forced liveliness until there was some semblance of normalcy. "Now," a grin curled his lips, "We sneak out and celebrate."

Harry raised an amused brow, "Is it really sneaking out if we've had permission to go to Diagon by ourselves for over a year now?"

"We have permission if we _tell_ them," Archie countered.

"Oh I see, so we're not going to _tell_ them. How very rebellious."

Archie nodded emphatically, narrowing his eyes at her.

"And I suppose it doesn't matter that Mum and Dad don't give a whit where we are and Uncle Sirius thinks you're still off sulking?"

Archie huffed, "Shut up and get going, Harry. We're not going to tell _Remus_."

"Uncle Remus is in the middle of his 10 AM workout, it's not like—"

"For Merlin's sake, Harry—"

And with that, the two cousins scrambled out of the library and into the light of the warm summer sun.

…

"You ready, Harry?" Archie said, lounging on her bed.

Harry closed her trunk decisively. "Ready."

Clambering up to sit beside Archie, Harry sighed. "One more day."

"Yep," Archie said cheerfully, "One more day for Uncle James to try and look grimly disapproving."

"One more day for Mum to shout at him."

Silence reigned, until Harry asked uncertainly the question on both of their minds. "Do you think it'll get better after we leave?"

"Of course!" Archie replied, shuffling around to face her. "They're _James and Lily_! They've been in epic love since before we were born."

Harry said nothing, and Archie sighed restlessly, running a hand through his hair. "But it's true that I've never seen them like this before."

"Yeah, well, neither have I," Harry muttered.

Somewhere in Potter Place, shouts exploded, echoing up to the cousins, and Harry swallowed thickly. "They're at it again."

Archie looked as agitated as she felt. "This is bad, Harry."

"I _know_ ," Harry said helplessly, flopping back on the bed. "But I thought Dad had let it go, after I told them the letter came. He seemed pretty resigned."

"Well yeah," Archie acknowledged, "But Aunt Lily isn't backing down. She needs to know why Uncle James was so worked up about it."

Harry exhaled tiredly. "We should just take a nice, long vacation."

"Somewhere warm," Archie added wistfully.

"With a Potions lab," Harry said dreamily.

Archie snorted, but his eyes softened. "You can brew to your heart's content, and occasionally I'll drag you out to fly so you don't waste away by your cauldron."

"You can study Healing," Harry nudged him. "Run a little clinic on the beach, and I'll supply the potions."

"That sounds relaxing," a voice remarked from the doorway, and the cousins looked up to see Sirius leaning against the doorframe, amused. "I hope there's a place for me in this grand plan of yours."

Archie smiled tentatively. "Only if you don't interrupt the peaceful academic lifestyle."

Sirius grinned, slouching in the door and settling himself between Harry and Archie, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. He ruffled Archie's hair, saying softly, "Love you, kiddo."

"Love you too, Dad."

"Am I forgiven?"

"...Yeah."

Harry's lips curled up, unbidden, and she set her head on Sirius' shoulder. "Hey, Uncle Siri."

"Hello, little fawn."

"You think we're gonna have fun at Hogwarts?" she asked, and Sirius sucked in a breath, thoughtful.

"I think it'll be a blast," he said gently, then teased, "But Archie here will need to make sure you're not all work and no play. I can just imagine, you holed up in some abandoned classroom bent over a cauldron, in the midst of some Potions-induced haze. Prongs would have an aneurism."

Archie chuckled at Harry's scowl. "Don't worry, we'll play a couple pranks in your honour, Dad."

Sirius sniffed haughtily, "You better. If I hear you're tarnishing the Marauder name there will be words."

There they sat, peaceful, and although there was still so much to sort out, Harry allowed herself a moment to feel proud. She'd gotten the scholarship. She was going to go to Hogwarts and learn under Master _Snape_ , and she and Archie would stick together through thick and thin.

...

Extra:

James Potter never imagined parenting could be this hard.

He stared at the parchment he had painstakingly forged, taking great care to imitate the elaborate penmanship the Board of Governors employed.

 _Dear Heiress Potter,_

 _It is with regret we inform you of the rejection of your application for the scholarship awarded by the newly founded Opportunities for Halfbloods Initiative. We thank you for participating and wish you the best in their academic career moving forward._

 _Sincerely,_

 _The Hogwarts Board of Governors_

All he had to do was adjust the owl wards, and he could reroute the letter and replace it with his own.

Could he do that? Crush Harry's dreams for the sake of his own fatherly paranoia?

 _But it's not paranoia_ , he reminded himself.

And it wasn't. James remembered his own school days with wonderful clarity. He remembered the jokes and the pranks and the pretty redhead he met in the station every year (whom he later married, for that matter). He remembered detention after detention with Filch and feuds with the Slytherins and fighting with Snape, he remembered glorious full moons spent running wild through the Forbidden Forest.

He remembered Sirius' clenched fists when Bella called him a blood traitor in that taunting, sickly-sweet tone. He remembered Peter's wide eyes when James launched himself into a fistfight with a nasty housemate who implied they were only friends with Remus because he did—well, _other_ things for them.

Yes, James remembered.

And Harry would not suffer through that if he could help it.

Lily didn't understand, not really. She had been well away from it at AIM, then married Lord Potter, who had the status and the wealth to shelter his family from the worst of it. What she saw was that her little girl had the opportunity to attend a school she was unable to, in her youth, and she couldn't let it go.

James swallowed, tilting his head back.

There was a possibility, he reassured himself, that Harry wouldn't get the scholarship anyway. That what he was about to do wouldn't make a difference.

But he knew better. He had looked into the other applicants, and none of them had the pull or influence that he did. It would go to Harry, regardless of how talented the other were.

That's how society operated, after all.

"James," Remus' voice admonished over his shoulder, and James startled.

"My Auror reflexes must be getting slow if I let an old thing like you sneak up on me," he joked easily, spinning around to face his long-time friend.

"James," Remus repeated, then flicked his eyes to the letter lying on the desk before them.

James kept his body language purposefully open and relaxed. "Yes, Moony?"

"What in Merlin's name do think you're doing?" Remus demanded sharply.

James' eyes flashed. "Protecting my daughter."

"Protecting or hobbling her?" Remus snapped, "This is her future!"

"Don't you know what it'll be like?" James shot back, surging to his feet.

"Of course I do," Remus said quietly, "I _lived_ it, James."

James was caught in Remus' yellow eyes, fierce and determined. "If you do this, James, Harry will never forgive you."

"No," James said, voice thick, "Any more than I would ever forgive myself." James collapsed back into his chair. "You're right, Moony," he sighed, cradling his head in his hands.

"But it'll be so bad," he whispered, "I don't want that for my little girl, Moony—"

James subsided, ashamed, and Remus' demeanour softened. "I know, Prongs."

"But Harry is _strong_ ," he continued, "I know sometimes you can't see it, but she really is your and Lily's daughter. She refused to back down on this, and I will support her. I hope to the Great Mother Goddess, James, that you can find it in her heart to do the same.

"Besides," Remus smiled, "She'll have Archie."

With that, he slid the fake letter forward and turned to go. "This is your choice to make, James.

"Make the right one."

James Potter exhaled.

The next night, he left for a dinner where his daughter would tell them of a letter, a letter announcing her status as the recipient of a prestigious scholarship to the best wizarding school in the country.

Meanwhile, parchment smoldered in the fireplace, taking a father's misguided plans to protect his daughter and vanishing them in sparkling, crystalline faith.

Remus was right. Harriet Potter was strong, and James knew that.

(That did not mean, of course, that he would not worry.)

(But that was a father's job, was it not?)

A/N: Thank you for reading! As well as thanks to mbm for her wonderful series (if you haven't read it, what are you neven doing here? Go read it!) One more thanks (hehe) for StarofTime, both for the idea and helping me kick it off. Yes, I know this is short. I apologize. I don't have much experience writing fics, I'm afraid, so please please share any insight/feedback you have.

See you soon! (Hopefully.)


	2. The Train

Standing on Platform 9 ¾, Harry took in the sights and sounds around her. A bright red steam engine waited patiently for its passengers, puffing smoke contently into the air. Tired-looking 7th years and nervous, jittery firsties alike weaved in and out of view, chatting with friends and clinging to parents in equal measure.

"Circe, McGonagall's such a hard-ass—"

"You'll write to me every week, right Mum?"

"Jordan, for Merlin's sake is that a _tarantula—_ "

"Lots of people," Archie remarked, sounding slightly overwhelmed.

"I know, right?" Sirius interjected gleefully.

Lily's eyes looked a little misty, devouring all the hustle and bustle around her.

"Your aunt's thinking back years ago," Sirius whispered conspiratorially, "Many, many years ago— _hurk_!"

Lily extracted her elbow. "Watch it, Black," she muttered, still transfixed by the activity on the platform. "You're no spring chicken yourself, you know."

"Why—"

"Well, Harry, ready to go?" Archie cut off Sirius' impending offense neatly.

"Oi, Arch—"

"Yep," Harry replied, smiling innocently.

"Harry!" Sirius yelped, turning to her.

"Did you hear something?" Archie asked glibly, and Harry shook her head, a faux-confused look on her face.

"Maybe a bug?" she suggested, and Sirius choked.

"I'm not sure…" Archie wondered.

"Oh, hey, there's someone we've forgotten," she said, ignoring Sirius' hopeful eyes.

Archie matched her step for step, "Ri-ght, we need to say goodbye to Aunt Lily and Uncle James."

"Have fun, kids," Lily said, amused, and James nodded shortly beside her.

Archie dropped the ruse and hugged Sirius tightly. "Bye, Dad."

"Bye, son," Sirius said back, plopping his chin on Archie's dark curls.

Harry turned from the touching scene to be met with her mother's arms, warm and strong.

"Stay safe, Harry," Lily whispered in her ear. "Have fun, darling."

Harry nodded determinedly. Released from Lily's embrace, she turned to her dad and wrapped her arms around him tentatively.

"Hi, Dad."

After a moment's hesitation, James' arms tightened around her. "Hello, little fawn," he said simply.

Harry leaned forward, feeling her glasses press into her dad's chest. "See you winter break."

"See you then," James replied, then exhaled. "Harry," he said, "I know I haven't been the most supportive of this."

"But _go_ ," he continued softly, "Go and eat in the Great Hall and use all the secret passages and find your favorite classes. Sit out by the lake with the squid and for Merlin's sake try out for Quidditch so you don't end up studying too hard."

"Go take Hogwarts by storm."

" _And_ ," James said long-sufferingly, "it's okay if you're not in Gryffindor."

Harry smiled uneasily and stepped back, where Archie was waiting for her.

" _Now_ we're ready to go," she said.

"Give our love to Uncle Remus!" Archie chirped.

"We will," Lily reassured, and the cousins clambered onto the train.

Having boarded early, the train was sparsely occupied. Archie and Harry found an empty compartment near the back relatively easily and darted inside, flipping the latch and collapsing onto the soft fabric seats.

"Well," Archie said, "We made it."

"Mm," Harry replied, mind still on her father's words.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"Archie…" Harry whispered, "You know I'm hoping for Slytherin. Snape's Head of House and he and Dad _hate_ each other, if I'm not a snake there might be no chance of him teaching me. He's the whole reason I applied for the scholarship—I _have_ to be a Slytherin."

Archie eyed her, concerned. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm aiming for it too. We talked about it, remember?"

Harry breathed, "Yeah."

She hesitated, then plowed on, "But I didn't think—I didn't think about Dad. Just now, he said it was okay if I wasn't in Gryffindor."

Archie blinked, "Well that's good, right?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered.

But it's not, she thought silently. Anyone who had met James Potter knew perhaps within the first ten minutes that he was the quintessential Gryffindor. Light, chivalrous, brave, sometimes to the point of recklessness. An Auror.

And her mother? Fierce, strong, courageous. A student of AIM and a lioness all the same.

But Harriet Potter wasn't any of that. She was restrained, reserved, mostly apathetic about anything that failed to catch her interest. She was raw ambition and a burning brand of wantwant _want_ —to brew, to invent, to create.

Somewhere inside she expected, perhaps even knew, that her want would place her in Slytherin House.

She hadn't thought beyond that, though. What would her parents think?

"I'm sure he'll be fine with it," Archie comforted, "And that's if it even happens. Maybe you'll end up in Ravenclaw."

Harry nodded even while recalling a twisted, charred stirring rod and beloved journals shoved under table legs.

"What about politically?" Harry asked, "The Potter Heiress, a halfblood, sorted into Slytherin. You know more about society than me, Arch."

Archie looked uncomfortable. "It won't mean anything, okay? Uncle James didn't say that with politics in mind."

"I know he didn't," Harry persisted, "But I didn't really _think_ about it. What kind of statement will it make? Would it make people question Mum and Dad's politics?"

"Nothing quite that extreme," Archie said wryly, "But it would certainly go against the grain. Nobody expects a Potter to be anywhere but Gryffindor."

Harry huffed indignantly, "I know bloodlines are a big deal, but it's like it's unheard of for anyone to be their own person."

"I know," Archie snorted, "That's why people like Dad rock the boat so much. As for me, people either expect me to be a lion or to return to the family tradition and enter the venerated House of Snakes."

Harry narrowed her emerald eyes. "Good to know, but you're changing the subject."

"Ah, you always could see right through me, my dear," Archie sighed wistfully, and Harry glared at his antics.

"It means…" Archie hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged. "A couple people might joke about Uncle James' parenting style. We should be more concerned about ourselves, frankly. The Marauder's legacy means we'll be a target for pranks all around."

Harry exhaled tiredly. "Let's just both be Hufflepuffs."

"Nobody expects the badger," Archie grinned.

"I bet we could get Sirius to decorate Grimmauld in all yellows," Harry suggested.

"Canary yellow for the kitchen," Archie continued.

Harry hummed, considering. "Lemon for the bathroom?"

"A nice dark, cool amber for the bedrooms—except for yours. Yours would be mustard," Archie provoked cheerfully.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sirius would find a way to make yours so neon it burns your retinas."

Archie's nose wrinkled. "That's—" he was cut off as the door to their compartment crashed open and two redheaded boys skidded inside, laughing.

"We get on the train early for once and you two have to ruin it by—" A distant voice shouted, cut off by one of the duo sliding the compartment shut, the other whipping out his wand and casting a quick Notice-Me-Not.

Upon turning, the wandless twin (at least Harry assumed they were twins) laid a hand over his heart, staggering back dramatically. "Whoa, Gred! There are some wee firsties in here!"

The other turned, surprised. "You don't say, Forge?"

"We must not have seen their tiny heads through the window," 'Forge' said cheerfully, plopping himself down by Archie and slinging an arm over his shoulder. "You think they mind us staying here, Gred? At least until Perce is off the warpath."

"I don't know, Forge, why don't you ask them?" 'Gred' retorted, tucking his wand away neatly and moving to lean against the door.

Harry saw a familiar gleam in Archie's eye and groaned. "No, Arch."

" _Harry_ ," Archie whined, "They're _Gred_ and _Forge_. That's incredible."

"Why thank you, little pup," Forge grinned, "But I can't help but feel like we're missing something here, you, Forge?"

"No, _you're_ Forge," the cousins corrected, perfectly synchronized, then nodded in unison to the other twin, " _He's_ Gred."

The two looked surprised, exchanging glances, then grinned gleefully.

"It seems proper introductions are in order," the one by Archie said, standing up and flourishing an invisible hat, "We are the Weasley twins, I'm Fred, he's George—"

"—alternatively Gred and Forge, although we can't tell you which is which seeing as silly Gred is always getting mixed up, as you saw earlier," the other added.

Fred looked down, mock ashamed. "I know, I know, terrible habit. But here we are!"

"At your service," they finished together, winking and hooking an arm around each other's necks.

"Are you two—"

"—twins as well?"

"No, cousins," Archie explained, "Harry's eyes and mop would give us away, in any case."

"That's right, those are two bright little gems," Fred remarked jovially, ruffling Harry's unruly locks. "The hair is a good point too, any relation to a James Potter?"

Harry shrugged, "Marginally."

Archie rolled his eyes, "She's his daughter Harry. I'm Arcturus Black."

"Wait, _you're_ Arcturus Black?" George exclaimed, straightening.

"And you're Harriet Potter!" Fred chimed in brightly, then hesitated. "Pardon this poor chap, but I was fairly sure the Lady Potter was muggleborn."

Harry and Archie stiffened, then Harry said carefully, "She is. I'm the beta test for a new scholarship."

"Got a problem with that?" Archie challenged.

The twins took in their defensive stances and wary eyes, and something softened. "Hey," George said, "You won't hear complaints about it from us."

"Rather," Fred winked, "We'll be badgering you to provide us with tales of your family's escapades."

"The Marauders are _legends_ ," George sighed.

"And we've happened upon their progeny," Fred smiled wickedly.

"If we might offer you some advice, though," George said, momentarily serious, "I would hold off on pranks for a couple weeks."

Fred nodded, "At least until you can be sure you won't get caught."

"And when that time comes," George said slyly, "you may of course call upon the most charming—"

"— _devilishly_ handsome—" Fred added.

"—fellows in the entire school for any aid you might require, for although I'm sure the Marauder children will do fine for themselves, it never hurts to have another set—"

"—or two sets—"

"—of eyes, does it?"

Their eyes held Harry still for a second, humor and concern and bright compassion shining in them. The sentiment behind the Weasley twins' words hit Harry like a lightning bolt, and gratitude warmed her insides. "Thanks, Fred, George."

"Anytime, wee firstie," Fred saluted cheerfully.

"Now it's off to find Lee, hopefully Perce has simmered down by now—we charmed his hair to turn different fluorescent colors and spelled his Prefect badge to spew confetti, so you understand why he might have been a tad upset with us earlier," George elaborated merrily, and the twins linked arms, turning to depart.

"You forgot to take off the Notice-Me-Not," Archie pointed out helpfully.

The twins looked back with identical Cheshire grins.

"No we didn't."

And with that, the Weasley twins blew out of the compartment almost as abruptly as they had entered.

"Those two," Archie chuckled, "will give Dad and Uncle James a run for their money one day."

"Yep," Harry affirmed, "Do you think we should be worried?"

Archie thought for a second, then shook his head, grinning. "Nah," he said, just as the train blew its final whistle and set into motion.

And it was then, despite the fights and the worry and the apprehension, that an excitement quelled by the suppressed atmosphere of Potter Place reignited in full force. Harry had lit up with hope, and it showed in her words, "Well, whether we end up as badgers or snakes—we'll get through it together, though, won't we?"

"We'll find stars on the other side," Archie corrected, and Harry's surprise at the reference to Diana paled in comparison to her delight at Archie's confident smile, so different from the discouraged mood he had sported lately.

Harry and Archie spent the rest of the train ride in a nervous state of anticipation, playing Exploding Snap and munching on chocolate swiped from Remus' pantry.

All the while, the Notice-Me-Not glimmered on the door unobtrusively.

…

Draco Malfoy stood by his mother, fidgeting. "Don't forget to write, Draco," she murmured, her blue eyes glimmering suspiciously.

"I will, Mother," Draco replied impatiently.

"Do well at Hogwarts," Lucius said, and Draco grinned.

"Of course, Father."

Narcissa ceased her fussing and wrapped her arms around him. "I'll miss you, little dragon."

" _Mother_ ," Draco whined quietly. "We're in public."

A pause, and Draco frowned. "Mother?"

"If that isn't Sirius Black," Narcissa breathed, straightening.

"What?" Draco said, turning.

He saw a trio of adults standing on the platform, watching two disappearing figures boarding the train. A man with familiar angular features smiled after them wistfully, silver eyes misty.

"He looks like Uncle Regulus," Draco said, startled.

"Well, they are brothers, after all," Narcissa said absently, "I haven't seen Cousin Sirius in—it must have been over three years, now!"

Draco hesitated, seeing his mother's bright eyes. "Are you going to say hello?" he asked.

Narcissa blinked, "Perhaps?"

Draco furrowed his brow, his mother's unsurety new to him. "Do you want to?"

"I, well," Narcissa seemed to settle herself, regaining her usual fluid composure. "Perhaps another time. You're about to head to Hogwarts, after all."

"Indeed," Lucius said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Besides," Narcissa sighed, "With the whole business with the Potter Heiress it might not be best at the moment."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the reminder. His first year at Hogwarts, marred by the presence of an outsider—a halfblood, no less. His lips curled faintly in distaste. Narcissa had previously entreated him to befriend the Black Heir and reforge ties between the families if possible, but with the surge of unease wrought by the news of Harriet Potter's attendance at Hogwarts it was of course better to be wary.

Besides, there was no way Draco would be rubbing elbows with a talentless charity case, Book of Gold or no.

"Do try and find Vincent or Gregory," Narcissa advised, eyes discreetly scanning the platform.

"I will," Draco acknowledged, distracted from his derisive thoughts.

"Until Yule, love," Narcissa smiled, and Draco nodded.

"Until Yule, Father, Mother."

Turning from the achingly comforting figures of his parents, Draco ignored the wisps of something like uncertainty curling in his chest and focused on spotting Vince or Greg's hulking frames.

"Hi Draco," Greg panted. Draco eyed his disheveled form with barely-concealed disdain, pasting a polite smile over his features.

"Hello, Greg," he said, "How was your summer?"

Tuning out the response, Draco fingered the miniaturized trunk in the pocket of his robes and hoisted himself onto the train. He wondered idly if they were too late to find an empty compartment. Hm-ing at Greg's stilted sentences, Draco spotted Vince hunched over through a compartment window.

Sliding open the door, Draco seated himself across from Vince gracefully. "Vince."

"Draco," Vince grunted, "Greg."

"Sup," Greg huffed, plopping himself down.

" _Sup_?" Draco inquired, eyebrow raised.

Greg fumbled, "I mean hi. Hello. Sorry Vince."

Draco eyed him suspiciously. Greg continued hastily, "How was your summer?"

"Fine."

"That's good," Greg said, clearly casting about for a new topic. Draco rolled his eyes at his transparency, content to gaze out the window.

"Oh," Greg said, dull brown eyes lighting up, "Will we see the Potter Heiress?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if she was wandering up and down the train, nosing into all of the compartments," Draco scoffed.

"Mudblood," Vince interjected shortly, and Greg's forehead wrinkled unhappily.

"Vince. Polite company." Draco admonished sharply, and Vince apologized sullenly. Draco's mood was already ruined, though, and he scowled fiercely. "I can't believe they're letting her go to Hogwarts. I mean, there's a _reason_ they banned halfbloods. Sure, there's charity, but didn't they think about how she'll hold everyone else back?"

Greg looked uncomfortable. "Okay."

"Don't you agree?" Draco demanded.

"Oh. Yeah," Greg muttered unhappily.

Draco glared at him, "What's up with you?"

Greg mumbled something noncommittal, and Draco resumed his sulking, watching the trees speed by.

"It's just…" Greg searched for the right words, rubbing at a crease in his forehead.

"Just _what_?" Draco snapped impatiently. Merlin, why couldn't he just spit it out?

Greg subsided, and Draco's irritation reached new heights. "That's a terrible habit, you know," he said sharply, "You'll get wrinkles."

They spent the rest of the train ride in silence.

…

A/N: Thanks to mbm, thanks very much to StarOfTime and TimeTurner394 for helping and inspiring me. Sorry this is so short/not much happened this chapter—it all kinda feels like setup, huh? I'll work on it. But the twins! Who doesn't love the twins.


	3. Hogwarts

"Those look delightfully sturdy," Archie said of the rickety boats bobbing by the water.

Harry eyed them doubtfully. She had known they would be crossing the lake, but she couldn't help but wonder if they should have paid more attention to Sirius' over-the-top warnings about the Giant Squid. "I don't suppose we could cast Sticking Charms on our boots."

"We would just be stuck, helpless, when they capsized and sent us to a watery doom—" Archie muttered, interrupted by Harry coughing pointedly.

He grinned sheepishly. "Too much?"

A brunet boy nearby laughed and turned to them, grinning ruefully, "More than a little nerve-inducing, I'd say." He held out a friendly hand, "Terry Boot."

"Arcturus Black," Archie replied, shaking Boot's tanned hand. "This is my cousin Harry."

"Oh, the Potter Heiress!" Boot exclaimed, "Mum told me about the scholarship. You must be pretty exceptional to have made it to Hogwarts, huh?"

Harry bit down the urge to blurt out that she shouldn't have _had_ to be exceptional, instead smiling agreeably. "Well, I don't know about that."

Boot laughed, "If anything, what they say about your eyes is definitely true. Would you two like to share a boat, then?"

Harry and Archie looked at each other, then shrugged and clambered in clumsily. Boot followed suit, and all around them other students did the same, grouping together while they chatted and laughed.

"So, what do they say about Harry's eyes?" asked Archie, eyes twinkling with the delight of a Marauder on the tail of something embarrassing.

Boot frowned quizzically at him, but shared willingly enough, "See, you two haven't really been seen in society since you were a lot younger, so most people only have speculation about what you look like now. But one thing everybody knows is that the Potter Heiress supposedly has eyes green as a serpent's finely polished scales—"

Archie choked and burst out laughing. The same laughter was building in Harry's throat, but she held it back at the mildly offended look on Boot's face.

"Sorry, Boot, we've just never heard anything like that before," Harry apologized, which Boot accepted easily enough.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid, a friendly giant of a man who had greeted them off the train, passed by, bellowing, "Four to a boat!"

"You know," Harry deadpanned, "I do believe we ought to have four to a boat."

"Really, Harry?" Archie acted faux-surprised. "I can't imagine where you would get that from."

Boot chuckled a little awkwardly, then gestured to a lost-looking redhead. "We could ask Weasley."

Harry examined him. Same eyes, same hair—yep, definitely related to the twins. Probably a younger brother. "Excuse me," she said politely, waving him over, "Would you like to join us?"

The boy looked tremendously relieved. "Yeah, that would be great. I'm Ron—Ron Weasley."

"Any relation to a Fred and George?" Archie inquired, and Weasley winced.

"They're my brothers. I guess they are kind of infamous."

"Kind of," Boot snorted, "They're Hogwarts _legends_."

Archie leaned in, whispering, "Déjà vu, anyone?"

A smile tugged at Harry's lips, just as Boot asked Weasley, "Don't tell me you're a prankster, too?"

"Nah," Weasley answered quickly enough, but Harry saw a grimace flicker over his freckled face and felt an answering sympathy from the girl who had fielded dozens of questions from well-meaning adults asking her if she wanted to be an Auror when she grew up.

"Isn't your brother a curse-breaker for Gringotts?" Boot pursued curiously, and Weasley sighed.

"That's Bill. If you'd like to go down the line, next is Charlie. He's a dragon tamer. Or we could talk about Percy? Prefect and top of his year."

Harry's eyebrows rose. How many Weasley siblings were there? "Five brothers?"

"And one sister," Weasley huffed.

Harry studied his defensive posture and said quietly, "That's a lot to live up to."

Weasley looked surprised, then exhausted. "Tell me about it."

"I'm Harry," Harry introduced herself steadily, "Harry Potter."

"The scholarship student," The redhead made it a statement rather than a question, but Harry nodded anyway.

Archie frowned, curious. "How'd you know? The information hasn't been publicized yet."

"Fred and George told me," he answered offhandedly. "There's a lot to live up to for you, too. You think it's worth it?"

Harry inhaled sharply, then smiled, fierce and exhilarated. "Definitely."

Over the water, Hagrid cried out, "Everyone in?" At the sounds of assent commanded, "Alrigh' then—FORWARD!"

Harry wondered for a second if they were expected to paddle. The boats, however, slid of their own volition through the glassy, mirror-like lake, inky water sluicing off the sides. An awe-filled silence fell upon the first-years, and Harry watched as Hogwarts loomed into view.

She heard Ron (he'd told them just to call him by first name, seeing as this year there would be four Weasleys at Hogwarts with another one to come) let out a stunned " _Blimey_ " and felt that was a rather good summation of her feelings at the moment. Magic hung so thick in the air she could almost _taste_ it—rich and heavy and sweet. Harry felt something in her stomach, tired and sluggish, stir in response.

 _Pay attention_ , it told her, _This, this is what it means to be magical._

The feeling passed, and Harry shook her head briskly, wondering what on earth that had been. Glancing over at Archie, she saw him grinning at her. " _This is awesome_ ," he mouthed breathlessly, and Harry nodded her agreement.

They disembarked quietly and made the trek up to the castle. Hagrid led them solemnly, lantern in hand, and Harry wondered at the fable-like picture they must have made. She couldn't help but feel like she had returned to the days of childhood make believe—any minute now Sirius would be leading a raiding party into the dungeons to battle the evil crone Lily. Which room hid the slumbering dragon? Where was the wise wolf that would advise them? The mousy brown-haired boy, the Indian twins discreetly clasping each other's hands, were these her enemies or her allies?

Who could she and her trusty Healer rely on, and who would stab them in the back?

Fantastical thoughts aside, Harry turned only to meet a sharp, grey-eyed glare. She challenged it with her own cool, curious green, and the pale blond jerked his head away scornfully.

Hurt and anger rose inside of her. What had she done to him, anyway?

 _Nothing_ , she thought resentfully, _absolutely nothing except have the gall to attend Hogwarts_.

"Whoa, cuz, you okay?" Archie nudged her gently. "I think if you scowl any harder Dad will materialize from the sheer power of it and freeze your face that way."

Spirits lifted, Harry grinned reluctantly. Jerks would be jerks, after all, and in any case they had reached Hogwarts.

Hagrid scanned over the first-years before nodding decisively and knocking three times on the castle door. It swung open immediately, revealing a stern looking woman with black hair drawn back into a neat, tidy bun. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she announced in a crisp Scottish brogue, ushering them into the Entrance Hall. Sharp eyes roamed over the assembled students, lingering on a few Harry assumed she recognized from teaching their parents or siblings. "I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House."

She adjusted her spectacles. "Many of you know already of the four Houses we have here at Hogwarts. For those of you who have not, or may need a refresher, they are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. All have rich histories and have produced exceptional witches and wizards. I urge you not to get it in mind that one stands above the rest."

Harry spotted the blond boy who had glared at her roll his eyes, looking to the two burly boys flanking him in amused superiority.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned, but she continued without pause, "However, I expect each of you to take pride in your House and your fellow Housemates, as they will be your family for the following seven years. This includes attending events such as Quidditch matches and putting your best foot forward in classes. Your triumphs will earn you points. Failures and breaking of the rules," at which she pointedly directed her iron gaze to where Harry and Archie stood, "will lose you points." Archie sputtered in offense, and Harry thought she saw Professor McGonagall's lips twitch as she went on, "The House with the most points as the year concludes will be awarded the House Cup, a high honor. I trust you will be a credit to your Houses."

"I don't like what she's implying," Archie muttered sullenly under his breath, and Harry bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a smile.

"The Sorting Ceremony shall commence shortly in the Great Hall before the start-of-term banquet. I suggest you do your best to make yourselves presentable," concluded Professor McGonagall, sweeping out of the room. Harry took a moment to admire her stage presence before the first-years erupted into nervous chatter.

Archie ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "Do you think I'll make a good first impression? Should I freshen myself up?"

Harry cut her eyes to him incredulously. "Where, in the alcove behind that suit of armor there?"

Archie looked sheepish. "Right."

He leaned against the stone wall, saying a little wistfully, "Dad would find a way."

"Sirius would blow up three bathrooms and flood the room with pumpkin juice," Harry replied, "Are you already homesick?"

"Kind of," Archie admitted, "It's really weird to think that I won't see him until winter break."

Harry shrugged, not really understanding. Archie and Sirius' relationship had always been a little unique. "You can write," she suggested.

"Yeah, but it won't be the _same_ ," Archie said plaintively.

Harry remembered the taste of Sirius and Lily's cooking on her tongue, lively dinners spent laughing and arguing at the table. "No, it won't."

Professor McGonagall returned to usher them into the hall, and Harry brushed her fingers against Archie's briefly. True, things wouldn't be the same, but that didn't mean they'd be _bad_. Just different.

The Great Hall was just like James and Sirius had described it. Four long tables occupied the majority of the space, with another, shorter one placed at the end of the Great Hall. Harry's bright green eyes flickered over the mass of students, surprised at the sheer volume. Hogwarts' numbers certainly didn't seem to have taken much of a hit from banning non-purebloods.

Crimson ties and rowdy chatter, a golden lion roaring from their flag— _Gryffindor_ , she conjured up easily. No trouble recognizing that one.

Beside the unruly lions sat the Hufflepuffs James always jested about, donning cheery yellow. Their House Banner boasted a friendly-looking badger, and Harry admitted reluctantly that she could see the reasoning behind the jokes made at their expense.

She kept her eyes moving and was startled by the intense look directed at her by a pretty Asian girl in a blue tie. The proud, bronze eagle soaring over her table—that was Ravenclaw. Harry glanced behind her, puzzled, but seeing as there was no one there she must've been who the girl was practically boring holes into. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Harry broke eye contact and averted her gaze to the final table of students.

Slytherin, the House of Snakes. Decidedly more subdued than the others in the hall, many of them sat with the refined postures characteristic of a traditional pureblood upbringing. Their banner was decorated with an elegantly coiled silver snake, shimmering subtly under the light from the stars—

Harry's thoughts screeched to a halt. _The stars?_

She looked up. _Oh._

 _The ceiling in the Great Hall is enchanted to depict the sky outside_ , whispered Remus, one of the few times he had acquiesced to her requests and told her about Hogwarts from _his_ perspective. _It's absolutely breathtaking, Harry. I wish—I wish you could see it. Every time I walked in I knew how lucky I was._

Well, here she was, and Remus was right about it being breathtaking. The sky was a sight to behold when not observed through a blurry glass pane or through the smoke and bustle of London streets. She couldn't help but think she hadn't truly seen it before this moment. Entranced, she barely noticed when Archie ghosted his fingers across her shoulder surprisingly gently.

Except it wasn't Archie, it was a slightly anxious-looking blonde with a warm smile.

"It's stunning, isn't it?" she whispered.

Harry nodded.

The girl hesitated, "But you might, er, you might not want to—I mean, considering—" She blew her bangs out of her face. "This is hard."

Harry was about equal parts confused and endeared, but any further conversation (and thus clarification) was cut off by Professor McGonagall entering the room with a stool and an old, tattered hat. The noise in the hall quieted as people turned to watch the Deputy Headmistress set the stool in the middle of the room, facing away from the staff table. She placed the raggedy hat upon it carefully and reverently, and Harry felt mildly amused as the tense speculation around her racketed up a notch. Apparently it was tradition not to let students know about the Sorting before they came to Hogwarts, but under the circumstances she and Archie hadn't wanted to be surprised. (And by that she meant they had bugged/guilt-tripped/annoyed the information out of their respective parents and uncles.)

Information they hadn't gotten, however, was that the hat would… sing a song.

A rhyming song about the Houses.

"This is _great_ ," whispered Archie gleefully.

Harry shushed him absently.

"…and hope to study every day…"

"Wow, that's you, isn't it?" Archie commented.

Harry accidentally on his foot, smiling innocently. His hushed, offended "ouch" was ignored.

"But—"

Harry's smile took a turn into a dying-your-favorite-robes-permanently-fuchsia brand of menacing.

Archie listened.

The Hat went on, "If you know you have ambition,

And a cunning disposition…"

 _Is that me?_ Harry wondered. She certainly thought she had ambition. What eleven year old had a 'cunning disposition,' though? For that matter, taking only the things one earned, or having a stout heart that _never_ swerved? Those seemed like rather grandiose expectations for children. Harry did keep her secrets close, though, and finding her truest friends didn't sound at all bad. Getting into Slytherin shouldn't be an impossibility.

As the song came to a close, applause broke out in the hall, particularly enthusiastic among the newly relieved first-years. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and pulled out a scroll. "When your name is called, come forward and try on the hat. It will place you in your house. Abbott, Hannah!"

The blonde girl that had spoken to her earlier trotted out, pigtails bouncing. She perched hesitantly on the stool, the Hat concealing her apprehensive brown eyes.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry couldn't help but think that the girl seemed to fit the usual Hufflepuff stereotype. Sweet, anxious, friendly.

Sirius' dismissive voice echoed in her head, _Pranking Hufflepuffs is easy as pie because most of them won't retaliate, but they can also make you feel_ bad _about it. Eugh._

Harry suppressed a smile. Heaven forbid someone feel _bad_ about pranking.

"I'm next, I think," muttered Archie.

He was right. "Black, Arcturus!"

"Good luck," Harry whispered.

He grinned in response. "Thanks, cuz." Face morphing into a cocky smirk, Archie strode to the stool with a natural sort of grace Harry envied him for—she supposed that was the territory that came with being Sirius Black's son. He plopped the Hat on his dark curls and Harry watched with bated breath.

A minute passed.

Then five.

Harry peered surreptitiously around the Hall. Should it be taking this long?

She caught a murmur from a nearby table. "—Hatstall, no big surprise."

Archie's face might've looked relaxed to a stranger, but the slight quirk to his brows and the way he kept aborting motions to run his fingers through his hair let Harry know he was agitated. _Will the Hat not let him in Slytherin?_

Being in different Houses would be tough, but not unbearable. They could meet in the library or in secret passages. The Map would help—

"SLYTHERIN!" Relief washed over Harry as her cousin (and the only person she knew here) sat himself at the end of the applauding table in green.

Harry paid momentary attention to Boot, quickly sorted into Ravenclaw. She also attempted to make note of those sorted into Slytherin (Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Tracey Davis). With any luck they would be her new Housemates. Names passed in a blur, not many standing out—Neville Longbottom was another Hatstall before his designation as a lion, in contrast to Draco Malfoy, whose Sorting took hardly a second.

Ah, he was the grey-eyed boy who had glared at her earlier. Figures, the Malfoys had a reputation for being one of the biggest supporters of the S.O.W. Party, and thus would not be supporters of halfbloods attending Hogwarts.

Finally they had reached the P's. Harry's heart was hammering away in her throat. Pansy Parkinson, Padma and Parvati Patil. Would all these names be alliterative except hers? Wonderful, another way to stand out.

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

Never mind. Merlin, there were a lot of P names.

"Potter, Harriet!"

Was it her imagination that a hush fell over the Hall? Shocked whispers swept across most of the students, although Harry noticed a fair amount of students who were grimly unsurprised.

"Isn't she a halfblood?"

"What's she doing here? I thought her mum was a Muggleborn."

"I can't believe it! Ernie you _knew_ and you didn't tell us?"

For some bizarre reason, Harry thought, everyone here seemed to be under the impression that she was hard of hearing. She hoped her expression of careful neutrality was convincing as she settled herself on the stool and the Hat on her head. Harry tried not to think about how this very moment would determine the course of the next seven years, and probably the rest of her life depending on whether or not Master Snape would even give her the time of day if she wasn't a snake—

" _Well, that's quite a bit of pressure, young lady."_

Hearing someone talk inside your head was quite odd. Harry wondered if she could talk back properly, or if she would end up saying something out loud.

The Hat laughed, rough and gravelly. " _No worries, Miss Potter, I can hear everything you're thinking. Now, let's see…"_

 _Please say Slytherin, please say Slytherin_ , prayed Harry.

" _Slytherin, eh? Shouldn't be too difficult to grant, with your ambition. You'd do well in Hufflepuff, too—a hard worker and loyal to boot. Quite a bit of courage, not a bad mind, either. Set on Slytherin?"_

Harry resisted the urge to nod.

" _If you're sure! And I see you are, so may you succeed in…_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Stunned silence. Professor McGonagall's eyes were blown wide behind her spectacles, the scroll of names slipping in her hands.

Harry lifted the Hat off and placed it gently on the stool with a murmured "Thank you." A grinning Archie began a slow clap that spread around the Slytherin table, polite applause whose lack of enthusiasm she couldn't have minded less. Barely containing her smile, Harry sat beside Archie and exhaled quietly.

He nudged her. "Congrats, cuz."

She smiled, small but sincere. "Thanks."

Eyes flickering around the table, Archie whispered quietly in her ear. "They're not happy."

"I know," Harry murmured back, catching the scornful side-eyes and uncomfortable shifting away from her side of the table. Pushing down the sick feeling of _not-fair_ , she shrugged. "I'm not here to make friends, though."

Archie grimaced. "That sounded really depressing, Harry."

Harry had nothing to say to that.

The only other snake to clap for turned out to be olive-skinned Blaise Zabini, who slid nimbly onto the bench across from Harry. With the ending of the Sorting, Professor McGonagall cleared away the Hat and stool. The cousins swiveled to watch Headmaster Dumbledore stand for his opening speech.

He gave off an almost flawless impression of a peculiar old man. Tropical flowers and birds danced on his brightly-colored hat, and the long sleeves of his obnoxiously patterned robe trailed dangerously near the floating candles. His speech consisted solely of blurting out an assortment of seemingly random words before gesturing dramatically.

"I like him," said Archie thoughtfully.

Harry gave a considering look to their eccentric new headmaster. "You would."

Dishes upon dishes had crammed themselves onto the tables, an international array of foods unlike anything Harry had seen before. Judging by the way students took mainly from the things nearby, Harry suspected the placement wasn't random—but determining who liked what sounded like a near impossible job. Maybe a spell of some kind? Probably something to ask about if they ended up visiting the kitchens.

Archie was busying himself sampling as many foreign-looking dishes as he could, making faces at many of them. Harry mostly ignored him, helping herself to a generous serving of garden salad and tucking in. She received odd looks, some hostile, some curious, but nobody confronted her directly, so she and Archie ate in peace. Well, mostly in peace. Archie kept trying to convince her to try a bizarrely orange-coloured seafood soup.

"It's _French_ ," he coaxed.

Harry has never considered herself a very picky eater, but she knew better than to accept anything edible from a family member that wasn't named 'Lily' or, surprisingly, 'Sirius'. "Is that supposed to make me more inclined to try it?"

Archie gave up with a put-upon sigh. "You really don't know what you're missing, Harry."

"How ever will I survive," she deadpanned.

When it came time for dessert, Archie nudged her and indicated the staff table with his chin. "Is that him?" he whispered.

Harry followed his gaze to a surly-looking man in black. "Yep," she breathed. Hooked nose, fierce brows, the scowl—that was Potions Master Severus Snape, sitting a mere twenty feet away.

"Starstruck?" asked Archie, sounding wildly amused.

"We're going to be taught by _Severus Snape_ ," Harry said dreamily, "Can you believe it?"

Archie frowned doubtfully. "I don't know, Harry, he looks terribly cross."

"He always looks like that," Harry dismissed, "He doesn't have time for pandering to gossip and dull, tedious idiots."

At Archie's _look_ , she grinned unapologetically. "That's a direct quote, you know."

After struggling with what to say, Archie sighed, apparently not having the energy to comment on her 'creepy tendency to memorize everything about anything even remotely Potions-related.' "Then why is he a teacher? Gossipy, tedious idiots sounds like a perfect description of teenagers."

Harry considered this. "Maybe he's passionate about guiding the next generation?"

"Oh, yeah," Archie said, eyeing the professor, "he seems super passionate about leading us to success. The deathly grip he has on his utensils really inspires me to put my faith in him."

Harry looked again. It was true that Professor Snape's knuckles were almost imperceptibly paler around his fork. Harry wondered if it was her imagination that he was very pointedly avoiding looking at her end of the Slytherin table. An uncomfortable lump rose in her throat at the thought. _I'll just have to win him over_ , she resolved.

The excitement of the day and the rich, heavy food had tired her out. She listened halfheartedly to the Headmaster's _real_ opening speech about rules and grounds and the caretaker's extensive list of forbidden items (he didn't honestly think anyone would bother to read that, did he?) struggling with the urge to yawn. And just as she thought it was over—

"Why is Potter here?"

The strident voice came from the Gryffindor table. A boy with unruly brown locks scowled up at Dumbledore, standing on the bench. "And more importantly, why the hell is she a snake?"

The Slytherins hardly reacted to the first question, but at the second there were some whispers of discontent, particularly from the younger end of the table.

"Mister McLaggen," McGonagall reprimanded sharply. "Please comport yourself with some manner of decorum."

McLaggen had sparked something, though, and the murmurs re-ignited in full force.

"Yeah!"

"C'mon, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore looked grave. "Miss Potter is here on scholarship. I assume each and every one of you will be treating her just as you would any of your peers. As for your second inquiry, I do not see how Miss Potter's Sorting is anything for you to object to. We could all do well with a reminder that the past does not define the present."

The uproar died down a bit at the Headmaster's censure, although the instigator of it all remained standing, utterly unrepentant.

"Which basically means, McLaggen," one of the twins (Fred, maybe?) said cheerfully, "Sit down and shut up."

McLaggen snarled. "You're not the boss of me, Weasley!"

More than a couple people snickered, obviously incensing the stocky boy further.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mister McLaggen, and it will be more if you do not seat yourself properly and refrain from voicing your childish comments," McGonagall ordered.

McLaggen looked mutinous.

" _Down_ , Cormac," hissed the girl in dreads next to him. Still puffed up, McLaggen dropped onto the bench grudgingly.

Finally, Harry, Archie, and the other first-years were allowed to follow the prefects down to the dungeons. Much like dinner, nobody spoke to her, but many shot her disapproving/apprehensive glances when they thought she wouldn't notice. (She did, though, obviously. "Aren't Slytherins supposed to have subtlety?" Archie murmured in her ear. She sighed, too burnt out to answer.)

A black-haired prefect explained the common room to them, her speech and eyes guarded. Glad to skip the start-of-term meeting, but restless about being separated from her only ally here, Harry and Archie trudged down their assigned hallway. _Harriet Potter_ was engraved below _Daphne Greengrass_ and _Pansy Parkinson_. Harry reflected that this was remarkably like being any other student at Hogwarts, if you ignored the cautious eyes following every step and the fact that nobody besides Greengrass (and Archie, of course) had thus far spoken to her. Living with Greengrass would be terrible, she predicted, but Parkinson didn't seem too bad. She hadn't been blatantly staring like Nott, at least.

"I'm rooming with _you_?"

"Yes," said Harry tiredly, "Look, if you want to change rooms can it at least wait until morning?"

Greengrass wrinkled her nose, clearly unhappy. Parkinson had already glided through the door, though, and Greengrass huffed irritably. "Fine!" She flounced into the dorm.

Archie followed her progress incredulously, then shot Harry a sympathetic glance. "Night, cuz."

"Night, Arch."

Harry entered her dorm and the bed with her trunk at the foot of it. Sighing with relief, she collapsed on it , drew the silver hangings closed, and was asleep within moments. Malfoy's hostility, McLaggen's comments, and rooming with Greengrass—it would have to wait until tomorrow.

Now, it was time to dream.

.

 **a/n: is there like a,, "insult groveling apologies" button?**

 **yeah, it's been like six months. i'm really sorry, guys. i guess you could say i'm a leisure writer? the appropriate word is definitely lazy. i am a lazy, lazy, writer. you guys are super amazing and sweet and deserve to be forewarned that i am a very slow-moving writer (is it an excuse that i'm a suffering student? probably not). i hope you enjoy parts of this chapter (it's very unedited). but a thank you for mbm, for making us so happy, and to star and timey, for being there for me to bounce ideas off of. and a new thank you for boo64, for pm-ing me something really kind and inspiring me to get off my ass. i know i'm a jerk, okay? i knOW.**

 **may you eat delicious cupcakes! may you have a good day!**


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